THINGS TAKE A DRASTIC TURN

With Fanny, my wife, in Beijin, 2002

The preparation for the entrance test felt like boot camp. Four friends and I decided that since the time was very short, we would have to study day and night, as a group, at least 16 hours a day. And that was exactly what we did. Boris Pinchevski, Luis Naranjo, Luis Abad, Wilson Vivas and I hired an Accounting teacher, a CPA by the name Pepe Flores, to prepare us in that subject, of which most of us, including me, knew nothing. This man proved to be exactly what we needed, and by the end of five weeks of intense study, we all had a very good understanding of Debits, Credits, Inventories, FIFO, LIFO, Accounts Receivable, Accounts Payable, Balance Sheets and Profit and Loss Statements. In sum, we were ready to take on the written test of Accounting. I was in charge of the math classes for the group and, from the text books we studied the other subjects, of which we had a basic knowledge from High School. I have to say we did a heck of a job preparing ourselves for the entrance tests. Everyone in the group passed the written test, except Wilson Vivas who tried again the following year and succeeded.

Math and Accounting were the subjects of the written exams. I scored 10/10 on both and was one of the 150 students called for the oral test two weeks after. The oral tests were on Ecuadorian Economic History, Political Economics and Universal Economic Geography. As the students were called in alphabetical order, I had to wait for almost four hours until my name was called. By then, 6 out of every 10 students had failed the oral test, so the degree of nervousness in the room was running high. Finally I was called; I knew I was very well prepared for the test, so I got up to the podium feeling quite confident that I would pass.

The 30 questions from the three members of the examining tribunal came one after another, as did my answers. After about 20 minutes, the chairman of the examining group stood up to make an announcement: I had been approved by acclamation! He then asked the room for a big round of applause for me. It was an unprecedented act of recognition on the part of the tribunal to the performance of a student who had responded correctly, and in record time, to each and every one of their questions. I was emotional to the point of tears. I shook hands and thanked the three men in front of me and turned around to greet my friends who had studied hard with me and had been awaiting the outcome of my oral test. We left the room and embraced one another in jubilation. We had made it!

The following day returned to Pallatanga as I needed to take care of other business. I needed to confront my parents about the decision I had made to end my marriage. It wasn’t going to be easy, but it was something that needed to be done, nonetheless. I explained to them that the whole thing was a foolish mistake and that I would talk to Nancy and try to make her understand where I was coming from. By this point, my mom had become somewhat attached to Nancy, who had become a companion of sorts, but both she and my father were very understanding and concluded that I was the master of my own destiny. They would stand by whatever decision I made, provided that I would do my best not to hurt Nancy, and treat her with the respect and consideration she deserved. It took a couple of days for me to mentally and emotionally prepare myself to talk to my then-wife, and when I did, I did so in the simplest and sincerest of ways. I sat with her and told her that I felt we had made a mistake; that, quite simply, we had become infatuated with each other, and that neither one of us could possibly love each other in such a way that would last a lifetime. I told her about my goals, my irreversible decision to study and about my current inability to carry on my responsibilities as a good husband. As I talked she began to sob. It took me some time to calm her down and get through to her. Finally, I argued that splitting up would be the best thing for both of us, since our marriage had no future. “Nancy,” I said to her, as I held her hands in mind, “I’d rather you hate me for what I am than you love me for what I’m not.” And I meant it.

She cried for a long time, but eventually she understood each and every one of my words, which I spoke from the heart. In the end, she decided to go back and live with her parents and agreed to sign the petition to divorce by mutual agreement. We never had a child together, which meant there wouldn’t be yet another person hurt by our separation. I went back to Guayaquil and six months later, with the help of a lawyer friend, we were divorced. I have not seen, nor heard from Nancy since, but I really hope that she was able to start over and be happy with someone who truly loved and cared for her.

This is a chapter of my life that I have spoken to no one about, and writing about it some 46 years later has granted me a sense of catharsis. For the longest time I had actually hoped that I would never have to talk about it. But inevitably there would come a time when I would have to open up about this period in my life. And so I faced a great dilemma: should I share this with you all? Or do I keep it tucked away in that corner where we keep those things we want to forget? I confess I deliberated for some time. Finally, I decided that since I‘m telling the story of my life as it was, I had to be honest. I had to get over my fears and do it the right way.

When I sat down to talk about this with my wife Fanny and my daughter Angie recently, I told them that I felt it was one of the biggest mistakes of my life. But on the other hand, I was glad that I had righted my wrong. It was only then that I was able to meet and marry my beautiful wife, with whom I’ve had and raised the three finest children on earth. I’d like to take this opportunity to remind them, along with my daughter Mariuxi and son Rafael, that I love them with all my heart and that if I had to do it again, I would do it exactly the same way I did it the first time, for life is not about regrets; it is about lessons learned and the way we choose to move forward with that newfound knowledge.

Back in May 1964, a couple of weeks after the entrance tests at the U were over, the Students Association of the School of Economics welcomed me and presented me with a diploma that read: “To the Student with the Best Entrance Test Score for the 1964-1965 Academic Year.” So far I had been making good on my promise to be second to none. My next task was to get a job, which would allow me to work during the day and study at night, something that was not new for me, as I had been doing it since I was 14.

In my next posting: THINGS START TO IMPROVE